SUMMARY: Chapter Thirteen. Zero hour is approaching, the culmination of a day of lies becoming truth. But the final truth may be too much for either of them to handle.
WARNINGS: Rated Teen for language and sexuality. Veers into the realm of AU after the episode "Red" from Season 2. Because I just – LOVE red kryptonite!
DISCLAIMER: So many people own Superman and Smallville that I don't even know where to begin. We'll just sweepingly say Siegel and Shuster, DC Comics, and the show's creators. It's this twisted copyright situation, anyway. But I'm not making any money of them, rest assured. Just – playing with them. In my mind. It's not my fault they picked Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum, eh!
AUTHOR NOTE: My version of red kryptonite varies from the show's use. In comic canon, red kryptonite causes a different reaction each time Superman/Clark is exposed to it, and the results typically last 24 to 48 hours.
Slant
Chapter Thirteen
"I know that there's something else, Clark. Don't try to tell me that I'm wrong. What is it?" Lex gazed steadily away from Clark, accusation released into the still air. Clark struggled to control his anger at the question. They'd spent the past, what, seven hours talking almost non-stop (in between generous allowances of time for food), him pouring out nearly every thing he could think of concerning his abilities and his secrets and all of the situations he'd been in, while in return the other man had offered the smallest of details, illuminating but miniscule nonetheless, on his life and his past.
And yes, there were some things Clark hadn't told Lex. Two, both equally dangerous, in his mind. But for all of his openness, he'd received precious little in return.
"There's nothing else really important, Lex. Not that I want to discuss." There. Now he wasn't lying, not exactly. Just keeping things to himself, things he was uncomfortable saying. That was the agreement, wasn't it?
"I don't believe you."
Clark took a deep breath. He had never considered himself the argumentative type. Honest-to-God, he hadn't. Sure, he'd argued with Chloe and Pete and his parents and Lana on more than one occasion, but he'd thought (hoped) it was perfectly normal to do so. No one gets along with absolutely everyone one hundred percent of the time. It is an impossibility to do so.
"Lex, you can be such a child!" Lex's green eyes widened with surprise and a dim gleam of anger, not expecting Clark's retort.
Yet this was ridiculous.
"I'm not…what in the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes, Lex, you are. I don't mean…" Clark sighed, frustrated. How to explain this to Lex; Lex, who so obviously was afraid of the truth when given it freely, without some reason to be suspicious? Lex, who couldn't accept that were some aspects of his life that Clark simply didn't want to bare; ironic, considering the multitude of secrets he was keeping from Clark. "Legally, yes, you are an adult. But at the same time, you're still so much a child, in ways that I'm not."
"And how is that, Clark?" A hint of sarcasm in that question. More than a hint, actually. He decided to ignore it. He thought back to the few hints Lex had given of a childhood filled with nannies and tutors, and lonely birthday parties with no guests, and isolation from the normal activities Clark had so easily taken for granted.
"Two reasons. One, you never really had a real childhood." Lex's eyes darkened. "You – well, people caused you to skip that phase of development. You went from young to what you are now, no real growing up, not in the sense that I've grown up. Friends, basketball games, after-school stuff." He hesitated. Of course, his childhood was probably somewhat different that what other, non-extraterrestrials went through.
"And so because you did that your childhood was what, perfectly normal?"
Lex appeared to feel the same way.
"Just let me explain, will you?" Lex shut his mouth and glared. It made for a picture that shouldn't have been amusing, but was. Over the course of the day, he had actually begun to get used to this, to the way Lex's mannerisms were invading the body that he occupied. Chloe would sometimes talk about people who became friends and how they started to act and talk and even think like one another as they got closer, but Clark figured that this went a little beyond what she was talking about. Seriously, friends couldn't really get much closer than this.
And yet friendship, at least this friendship, was the most tumultuous thing Clark had ever dealt with, including the revelation of an alien heritage and that one of his best friends had had a crush on him for years. And anything having to do with Lana.
Strangely, though, he'd really enjoyed it. Not the lying, and the keeping secrets. But being with Lex, listening to him talk in that clever way, the way that made you really think. And those rare, real smiles when Clark managed something mildly clever in return. And the games of pool, or sharing a drink. Even the arguments, when they occurred, brought this sort of rush to Clark, like adrenaline, only combined with endorphins or the alien equivalent, because Clark felt sort of strangely light after the fights. If only they hadn't involved him lying, than he might have started more of them with Lex, just to get that feeling.
But now the lies weren't part of the equation. He could still feel that rush of excitement as he and Lex had the verbal equivalent of a duel, frustrating and annoying and petty but still, in a way, good. It was just the kind of friendship that someone like him, someone different, would enjoy. Otherwise, why would he have bothered with being Lex's friend?
He tried not to think about the attraction he felt towards the older man, and failed miserably. But that was a small part of it. Most of the time.
In any case, their words of friendship notwithstanding, they had spent the greater part of the day arguing and accusing one another. This lie had let to that lie, to those lies, to that and that and this, and why didn't you just tell me, and how could I possibly have told you, and so on, and so forth. In between, though, there had been laughter, sometimes absolute hilarity. When Lex hadn't felt offended at not knowing the truth, he admitted to the humour of many of Clark's antics involving his powers. Such as the fire caused by a glimpse at Lex's former wife. Lex had nearly burst out laughing (had held onto the edges of it, forcing himself not to do anything but let out the barest of sniggers). You have sex-lasers, he'd said.
That had been funny, until the laughter had edged out into an uneasy silence. The two of them had looked at one another for too long. Clark wondered if all of his emotions were still so easily read through the windows of his eyes, now that he had Lex's steel blue. He thought maybe they were; more than that, though, he feared that maybe they were. And all of his senses and pheromones and whatever the hell else was inside him now, they were all saying that he wanted Lex.
Sick. He had to be sick, going insane, something. It wasn't as though he were looking over at his own body and lusting over it, because he wasn't. Truly, that would have just about killed him. But it was as if Lex's soul – or essence, or aura, or something – was there, just behind Clark's frame. And Clark was drawn to it, almost as if it were instinct. For all he knew, on his planet, it was normal, and it was instinct. But how would Lex react? Knowing that an alien wanted him?
It seemed as though Lex had leaned forward, if only slightly, during that period of time when they were in silence. But then he seemed to have remembered himself, and quickly sat back, giving Clark a disarming smile and asking if he could fully control that particular power. And Clark had decided to simply not dwell on it, on sex-lasers or whatever it was; hell, on sex in general. He didn't want it getting any more complicated than it already was. He was, after all, already keeping his feelings, or whatever they were, from Lex. That, and he wasn't sure how to introduce his allergy to kryptonite, either. He didn't really know why he hadn't explained that yet, among the explanations of all his other powers, but there it was, sitting in the dark corners of his mind along with the discomforting idea of … liking Lex? The sentiment almost seem too childlike for whatever it was he felt, only that it was beyond his crush on Lana, beyond catching glimpses of Chloe that made him blush. This was utterly different; deeper, somehow. He didn't understand it, but then again, Clark didn't understand himself half the time.
"Are you going to explain what you meant about me being a child, or are you just going to sit there and be angry with me?" asked Lex, sounding a bit sullen. "Or we can just have yet another uncomfortable silence until midnight."
Clark glanced to the window and noticed that the sun had disappeared from the sky over the course of their latest argument/discussion/yell-fest. The clock on the south wall told him it was nearing nine in the evening, about the time that he'd fallen into an exhausted sleep the night before. Which had been strange, but he'd been more tired than usual that day. Probably from falling down into the mud during a rainstorm after incinerating wood in the forest while considering his various relationship problems and emotional hardships.
Yeah. That would do it.
Where had he been? Lex's behavior, normal childhood, not understanding him… right.
"And two," he continued, "you don't know all there is to know that people learn from their childhood. None of us has it all down completely. We're all children, really. But the things you don't know…" Clark hesitated. "The things you don't know are beyond what I don't know. I don't know biochemistry, but you don't know how to trust people. It's different. Inte- integrally different." He stumbled over that word and mentally cursed.
"I've been lied to my whole life, Clark. If my parents were Jonathan and Martha Kent, maybe I'd understand more of this. But as you so clearly put it, I didn't have a normal childhood. And until ten hours, my best friend had been lying to me. So forgive me, if you will, for my ignorance on the subject of trust." That being said, Lex looked away.
"And I guess I'm just supposed to apologize for them taking me in? I'm sorry about your past, Lex! I wish to God I could have done something! But I'm telling you the truth now so you don't have to feel like that anymore." Lex looked back up to him, eyes disbelieving, yet a glimmer of hope was resting within their hazel depths. "I'm sorry I was a part of everything that made you stop trusting people." Clark felt embarrassed then, running a hand over Lex's smooth scalp as if he expected hair there. He got a startled look on his face, and put his hand back down.
Lex managed a soft smile, and Clark relaxed. The last thing he needed was yet another shout-fest during this endlessly long day. "You aren't any more, Clark. I'm just trying to take it all in, and it's a difficult thing to manage."
"I can imagine," he said, relieved. "It was a lot for me to take in too, y'know."
"When did you find out that you were, ah – that is, you told me it was last year, but you didn't say when exactly you found out you were…"
"An alien?" Clark blinked, and smiled. "It was actually the day we met. I wanted to know why I was still alive after what happened. I'd never been put in a situation that dangerous, and all I did was black out for half a minute, or maybe less. So my dad told me."
"You blacked out?" Now a wash of guiltiness flooded Lex's face. "But you still woke up and decided to save the guy who hit you with his car." Clark laughed.
"You make it sound like I had a choice. I wouldn't have let you drown, if that's what you're thinking."
"You said to me that day, that I would have done the same for you." Lex hesitated, eyes looking anywhere but at Clark's. He settled on the bible lying on the table between them, and seemed to grimace. "I have to consider if that's true, and I really – don't know."
It was incredible, the way Lex could think so poorly of himself. Then Clark thought of how Lionel had treated him as a child. Though he hadn't asked for details, it was obvious that their relationship had been worse that he'd ever thought before.
"You would have, Lex," Clark said finally. Because whatever darkness that was in Lex, it was overwhelmed by the friendship he felt for Clark. That much had become evident over the course of the day, anyway. It had always come back to their friendship. It was almost like an obsession, and not just Lex's. He'd felt the same way. It was strange, yes, but between the two of them, it seemed to fit.
Yet Clark wanted more, and he knew it now enough not to deny it for any longer. It became clearer to him every second that he passed the day in Lex's body, understanding what it felt like to be Lex. It wasn't anything so poetic as baring one's soul, really little more than a freak accident, but nevertheless it had been revealed to him that he couldn't let the other man go, for either (or both) of their sakes. For better or for worse, this thing would, in Clark's mind, bind them together permanently.
"How do you know, Clark? I mean, how do you really know that I would have?" Hints of a plaintive sort of beg in that; Lex grasping for assurance that he clearly never received from his other friends. If he'd ever had any other friends. Now was hardly the time to ask if his assumption were true.
He stood, feeling his knees crack in an oddly pleasant way. Lex was still sitting there, reclining into the mini-couch or whatever it was, looking at the Bible as if it were his lifeline. Or else he simply didn't want to meet Clark's eyes. Or maybe both. He crouched down until he was the same height as the other man (which made for an awkward sort of half-lean, half-slouch) and put his hands on Lex's knees, feeling them shift lightly beneath his slender palms.
"I know you."
Lex blinked slowly. "Do you?" he whispered, eyes never leaving the bible. Clark rolled his eyes and, lifting one of his hands off of Lex's knee while keeping the other firmly in place, he grabbed the bible and threw it out the door. Lex made a noise that was almost a strangled laugh, and partially a bark of surprise, and maybe a little bit of anger.
"I don't know what you're doing, looking at that thing as if it's going to answer whatever questions you have. I don't really know how your mind works most of the time, but I'm guessing you're working on some insanely beautiful and entirely inaccurate metaphor about how you're Judas and I'm… I'm Jesus or something and one of us is going to hell and one of us is going to heaven and all that other crap."
Lex opened his mouth, and closed it.
"If that's true, then you can take it and shove it up your –" Clark stopped as Lex blanched. "Um, well, forget about it, alright?"
"O – okay."
Finally, he'd been able to say something sufficiently surprising enough to shock Lex and keep him from making one of his clever retorts. It should have been a victory, but instead he simply felt an overwhelming sense of calm, as if they were on equal ground. Switching bodies, the great equalizer.
"I'm glad we understand each other."
"Clark?" Clark looked straight at Lex, daring him to say something smart-assed. "Ah, why Jesus and Judas?"
"You're right. It was a strange choice. Their relationship was nowhere near as complicated as ours." A nearby clock rang out the hour; nine deep tolls, startling them both. Then Lex laughed, and Clark joined him. Laughter was the best medicine, and all that. Or so his dad would say. But his dad had probably never switched bodies with his best friend and spent a day feeling every emotion possible while keeping his hand firmly on his knee.
Not his hand. His knee.
Clark recoiled. And hit the couch. The hand was on his knee, and it was Lex's hand. They looked at each other, too astonished for words.
"Is this real? Or am I dreaming?" Lex said, and it was his voice.
"Maybe the whole thing was a dream," Clark suggested, still dazed. He could feel it, though, that his own body seemed new to him. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and as never before could feel the power in them. He wondered if Lex had felt that way.
"Kind of a bad dream," Lex replied. When Clark gave him his own brand of hurt look, he continued. "I mean I didn't get to do anything more than look through a wall or two. And walk really fast." Clark grinned.
"Maybe we can switch again some time."
"Until we know what caused it, we could very well switch again." And that was typical Lex, pulling down the mood into the dark and dreary. It was as if that were his purpose. Happiness was not allowed in the Luthor household for very long, it seemed.
"We can figure it out together."
"No more lies?"
Like a child, Lex, really. It was as if he had to keep repeating the statement, maybe to make it more real. And if that were true, Clark could hardly blame him. Because he was still lying to Lex. Maybe not in the sense that he had been before, no. But with every passing moment back in his real body, he could fee the urge to confess to Lex that he was hiding something, even if it wasn't strictly lying. That he and Lex were strangely compatible as best friends, but that they should be something… more. Was it a result of them having switched bodies? Clark didn't think so. When he had started baring all of the truths in his life, the ones within his subconscious inevitably start to bubble up as well. And having spent so much time spilling his guts to Lex, he felt guilty now over not telling him that he was attracted to him. It seemed an even bigger secret than the kryptonite; an even stronger weakness that could be used against him. Against both of them.
Why was keeping this obsession/attraction thing a secret? Nothing could possibly be a worse reaction than what had happened before, could it? What was he afraid of?
Being an alien hadn't lost him his best friend. But maybe this obsession… would.
"Clark?" Clark shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts, but they stayed stubbornly at the forefront of his attention. He looked over Lex's shoulder toward the clock, now putting the time at a little after nine.
"No more lies. But I should tell you. – that is, there is something. Else." Lex didn't say anything for a moment, and Clark looked back down to see that despite the switch, his friend's (obsession's?) hand was still sitting carelessly on his knee. Lex looked down as well, and removed the hand as if it burned. Maybe it did burn. Who knew?
"Whatever it is, it's okay, Clark." Clark had to smile at that. The way Lex could say something so easily, and yet have his actions so immediately refute those words.
"I don't know if I believe you now." He looked again at the clock, ignoring Lex's confused expression at his cryptic words. "I should go, you know, listen to my parents rave on about me being at your house all day."
"Don't avoid it, Clark. We'll still be friends, I told you. I'll never hate you, ever. It's better to just tell, get it over with." Though the words were soothing, Clark couldn't help but remember each and every time over the past day that Lex had pulled away from him, had refused to meet his eyes; even those times where Clark's very presence near him had seemed to upset him.
Clark was neither argumentative nor a coward by nature, even if he had spent a great deal of the past year in utter denial, and much of the past day embroiled in arguments. Nothing would ever be the same after this day, in either case so his next action was by his very nature the right and natural thing to do to culminate a day of – whatever it was. Had been.
"Is it?" he asked. "I guess maybe you're right, Lex. I should get it over with, even if I don't think you'll react – well. It'll probably be the first and last time for this, anyway."
"For wh –" But Clark was kissing him now. Soft, gentle brush of his lips against Lex's slightly open mouth, feeling the world beginning to slow around him, the cool mouth slack and unmoving beneath his own warmth. Then it slowly closed, still not kissing back.
Clark drew back, seeing Lex's wide, disbelieving eyes, how he slowly brought his pale hand up, fingers trembling as he touched his mouth, moving violently away from Clark as he did so, nearly unbalancing himself in an effort to put space between him and his (former?) best friend.
Mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.